Thrive
by SinginPrincess
Summary: After weeks without communication, worry gets the best of Sergeant Olivia Benson, and so she sets off in search for her friend, Emma Swan. This leads her to Storybrooke, Maine.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Okay so let's say this takes place after they've defeated Zelena and Storybrooke is kind of dealing with the aftermath (no time travel stuff) and Emma has yet to return to New York. As for the SVU timeline, it's some time after Beast's Obsession... So umm... basically it's an Emma/Olivia brotp and an Olivia/Regina OTP. But I'm still dubbing it Fearless Swan Queen, because why not. Unedited so I apologize for any mistakes.

* * *

_"Hey! This is Emma -"_

_"And Henry! I live here too you know!"_

_She laughs as she continues "Swan. And yeah, the kid lives here too. Anyways, obviously we're not here right now. We're probably doing something more important than sitting by the phone waiting for a call. So yeah, leave a message at the annoying beeping sound and we'll get back to you... if you're lucky."_

_Henry's laughter is heard in the background followed by an incredulous "what?!" from his mother before it cuts off with a loud beep._

"It's me, again. I've probably left you about a hundred messages by now. I can't seem to get through to your cell, either. Did you change your number? Where are you? I haven't heard from you in weeks... I'm getting worried." She sighs, running her fingers through her short brown hair, "I don't think I did anything for you to ignore me. Unless you're angry with me about perjuring myself, I'd explain if you let me... but you stopped answering before that so I just... It's not Henry is it? Is he alright? Are you? Can you -"

The line cuts off then. It's not the first time. Messages are supposed to be short and simple. But when you've called as many times as she has, and to no avail, the words just tend to pour without filter. God knows how many of her cut off messages have been saved in that machine by now.

She hangs up and sets the phone aside with a frustrated sigh. She really needs to talk to someone right now. Someone she could trust, but of course there was no one left, not outside the precinct. Emma was the only real friend she had left. And she really, really does not want to talk to Dr. Lindstrom right now. She just needs a friend. And more importantly, she needs to know why she hasn't heard from the blonde in such a long time, it just isn't like her to disappear. Could she really have tired of her so suddenly?

She thinks, not for the first time, that perhaps the drama with Lewis had managed to ruin yet another aspect of her life, but there's a nagging feeling that tells her that no, Emma wouldn't do that. She and Emma understood each other, they were alike in many ways. Despite her tendency to run, she wouldn't just leave without a word. Not unless something had gone terribly wrong.

She purses her lips in thought, staring at the bookcase across the room. She sees the book, the one with stories and photos that Henry had made her for her birthday. It was such a surprise at the time, she hadn't ever mentioned her birthday to Emma. She always hated her birthday, there were very few good memories related to that day of the year. And yet... somehow the blonde had figured it out. Of course, it shouldn't have surprised her, Emma was excellent at her job, she would have made quite the detective if her life had taken her down that path.

She makes her way over to the bookcase, picks up the book and returns to her place on the sofa. As she looks through the pages for the umpteenth time since she first received it, she can't help but smile.

It's as she's looking at the silly picture - selfie, as Henry calls it - of the three of them, cheeks pressed up against one another, laughing for reasons she can't recall, that she decides that she needs to do more than call. She needs to do more than wait for a response. Something has to be wrong for her to have left without a word. She sets the book down, grabs her coat, puts on her boots and walks out the door.

* * *

After some manipulation and authoritative demands - okay, yes, she used her badge - the building manager finally used his key to let the Sergeant into the Swan residence. She did try the traditional method of knocking on the apartment door and even calling her phone, but as expected, she received no response, and there was no way she was giving up, she had to know. So now here she stands, in the foyer of her friend's home. She searches the rooms quickly, hoping that she might just find her friend asleep, hoping the blonde had simply been ignoring her all these weeks.

Of course, the quick sweep of the house does nothing to ease her worry, instead she notes the layer of dust on the counters, the untouched dishes in the sink, which had obviously been there a while, and finally, clothes and other belongings thrown haphazardly about Emma's room. Her closet is wide open, her bed made but with clothing thrown carelessly atop it. The mess is nothing to be too concerned about, however, it's quite simply... well, Emma. Though it is quite obvious that no one had set foot within the apartment in quite some time.

She continues to look around, keeping her eyes pealed for any clue as to where she'd gone. There's nothing in her room though, nor Henry's. Just mess and dust and quiet. She heads back to the kitchen then, opening the fridge only solidifies her earlier assessment, most of the food within it is rotten now. She scrunches her nose in disgust and closes it. That's when she sees the notes held up against its surface by varying magnets. Most of them are quite normal of course; reminders to buy milk (a few too many, some bold and underlined with several exclamation points), doctor's appointments, and reminders for Henry's upcoming trip. She continues to look through them, unable to stop the laugh that escapes when she catches one that reads "MOOOOM! DON'T FORGET THE M-I-L-K OR I'LL STOP GROWING AND HAVE 2 DROP OUT OF SKL!"

She plucks it off the fridge and shakes her head, "God, Emma, you're worse than I am." She's about to put it back where it was when she notices a crumpled paper just below where it belonged. Something about it attracts her and she reaches for it. She straightens it out as much as she can, unintentionally dropping Henry's note as she does so. She doesn't bother pick it up, though, but rather chooses to examine this note instead. There isn't much on it, just the word "storybrooke", but something tells her it's precisely what she's looking for.

* * *

It took a few days and about a dozen dead ends, but at last, she had made progress. She was about ninety percent certain she knew where Emma had gone. Storybrooke wasn't much of a lead, it was incredibly frustrating, the databases at work were useless, as were her contacts, but Emma's apartment, well, after her fourth visit - inspection, really - she had finally found what she needed. And now here she is, driving down an endless road in the middle of nowhere in Maine.

It was nowhere to be found on a map or the internet, but Emma's notes - fragmented and confusing as they were - led her to believe that this was where she needed to be. It turns out Storybrooke is a town, or at least that's the conclusion she'd come to during her investigation. Problem is, there was practically no proof and she's mostly going with her gut instinct. But she has the time, a few weeks, really, so she figures it's an instinct worth following.

When her radio turns on unexpectedly, flipping through stations at random, and she begins to lose control of her vehicle, however, she begins to question if it was a bad idea. Leaving state alone to the middle of nowhere without telling anyone where she was headed (not that anyone would care, she had no family, her "friends" were alright but none of them treated her the way they used to, they all look at her with either pity or distrust now and it has been getting on her nerves) almost seems reckless now.

She tries to regain control, tries to stop the car but nothing seems to work. She grips the wheel tight, her knuckles visibly white and she curses and she tries and tries but she can't reclaim control. And then suddenly it stops. Everything stops. And all she feels is her heart pounding so hard and so fast she thinks it might pop right out of her chest. It doesn't though, obviously. She closes her eyes tightly, her grip on the wheel never loosening and she tries to catch her breath, tries to calm the nerves and push away the fear.

After what feels like a lifetime, her heart rate calms down, it's still a little faster than normal, the adrenaline still quite present, but she's not so afraid anymore. She opens her eyes, lets out a deep breath and slowly releases her hold on the steering wheel. She looks down at her own body, checking for any visible damage but she sees none. She breathes again, it's long and deep and it aids in alleviating the pressure she feels on her heart.

She closes her eyes once more and thanks whatever the hell is out there, if anything at all, for her survival. She doesn't have a whole lot of faith these days, never really has, but there are moments like these where she wonders, and she can't help but silently thank whatever. Destiny, the skies, herself, whatever it is that has her survive time after time. She moves her right hand up to her neck, only feeling true comfort when her fingers wrap around the pendant she wears.

_Fearlessness._

Perhaps it's silly, but that word, this necklace, it's her most valued possession. Even though its not the one she'd had for years, this newer one still holds the same power. It's managed to get her through quite a lot and it's presence is enough to anchor her, to remind her that fear is merely a distraction, something to fight, not run from.

She opens her eyes again, this time making a point of looking beyond herself and the confines of her car. She looks out the windshield to see the same endless road lined by an equally endless forest. But this time it's different, this time she smiles, because among those trees is an old sign, one that reads "Welcome to Storybrooke" and it is such an incredible relief that she almost wants to cry. Almost.

Instead she fights the weakness, fights the uselessness of tears and focuses on the good; she was right, Storybrooke was real, and she had found it. And soon, she would find Emma and find out what the hell had brought her out here and why she hadn't bothered to call.

She turns the key in the ignition, ready to continue her journey, but of course, it doesn't work. The engine sputters and makes a few sounds but the car won't start. She tries a few times more before she gives up with a frustrated huff and a hand that slams forward, honking the horn in the process.

She gets out of her car, pops open the front and checks the engine. Of course, her knowledge of cars isn't the greatest and she ends up slamming it shut once more. She pulls out her phone to call for help, but her day really, truly, has become quite the lucky one. There's no cell service. Not even a single bar. She tries walking around, holding it up in different directions, but nothing. She sighs and returns it to her pocket.

It's not long after that she decides to walk the rest of the way, or at least until she finds somewhere she can make a call, maybe rest a little. Okay, it's not really much of a decision, there isn't exactly another option. She definitely has no desire to sit and wait in the hopes that someone will show up and save the day. The fact that she's in the middle of nowhere isn't even the main reason, she just really doesn't need to be saved, she's never fit the role of damsel in distress well. Even in times where she had been, no one would save her but herself, and only because she knew she had a purpose; people to protect, voices to return. She's not so sure about her purpose anymore, but she's certainly not stupid enough to wait around for someone to tell her.

* * *

She's been walking for what feels like days now (she hasn't, she knows, but it certainly feels it), but at last she's found some form of civilization. It's not a large town, not that she was expecting it to be.

She makes her way towards the diner as soon as she spots it. It just seems like the best option. Hopefully they have a phone (her cell still can't catch a signal), and she would be able to ask if anyone had seen Emma, and, well, she wouldn't be opposed to a cup of coffee.

The abrupt quiet is hard to miss upon entering the establishment, the number of wide and curious eyes upon her even harder to ignore. She smiles lightly, however, attempting to alleviate the strange tension in the atmosphere. She averts her eyes quickly enough after the attempt, focusing instead on the elderly lady behind the counter. She orders a cup of coffee, sits on the only unoccupied stool and sets her bag down in front of her. The quiet is slowly replaced by a hum of voices. They're whispering, most likely about the stranger that just walked in. Most likely is an understatement really, it's blatantly clear that they are indeed talking about her, but she does her best to ignore it. It's not like she hadn't been subjected to this treatment before, the media coverage after Lewis was extensive and the damage seeped into every crevice of her life.

"There you go," the older woman says as she places a mug of coffee on the counter before her, "can I get you anything else?"

"Thanks." And this time when she smiles, it's less awkward and more genuine. "This'll be fine for now."

The older woman narrows her eyes, studying her briefly before she nods and tries to start up a conversation. Well, pry is a better fit for what she asks, "What brings you to Storybrooke?"

She doesn't hesitate to answer, she had fully expected the question, especially after the... welcome she'd received upon entering.

"I'm looking for someone," she answers, lifting the coffee to her lips, she takes a sip, hums in approval, and then continues, "perhaps you might know where I can find her."

The woman smiles at her and she can feel the eyes staring from behind her, the whispering continues but it's even quieter than before and she resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"Her name is Emma, Emma Swan."

The recognition is instant. Olivia sees it in the other woman's eyes, the way they widen just a little before she quickly regains control over them and narrows them in suspicion.

"I'm sorry, what did you say your name was, Miss...?"

"I didn't. Sorry." She sets the mug down and extends her arm offering the woman her hand, "Olivia Benson."

The older woman stares down at her extended hand before finally reaching out herself. They shake hands briefly and she smiles, although the suspicion remains. "Everyone here calls me Granny," she offers.

A moment of silence passes between them, only interrupted by a sound from behind, a door, she supposes, and the clicking of heels, but she doesn't look away from the older woman.

"What is it you want with Emma Swan?" she asks finally, a little louder than necessary.

Olivia doesn't miss the warning within the woman's eyes and she most certainly doesn't miss the fact that she's no longer looking at her, but rather somewhere past her.

She doesn't answer, simply studies the woman's face, a face which is so clearly conversing silently with a third party.

"Well?" the question is delivered with a hint of impatience but it most certainly did not come from the elder woman before her, it came from a rich voice behind her. And so she turns, slowly, at last and she finds herself looking at an elegantly dressed dark brunette with bright red lipstick.

"Go on, dear, answer the question." She smiles, and it's the type of smile she is all too familiar. Fake. So very, very fake. A little cold and warning, too. Defensive. Practiced.

She parts her lips to respond, not to answer, but rather turn the interrogation on its head, when the shuffling of feet is heard before an all too familiar voice makes its presence known.

She turns just in time to see the young boy's bright smile as he gleefully calls out "Aunt Liv!" before running towards her and wrapping his arms around her.

She's a little surprised to see him, but also incredibly relieved and she simply can't stop the grin that spreads across her face when he hugs her. She chuckles lightly and responds with a light, "It's good to see you too," as she ruffles his hair before returning the embrace.

"What are you doing here?" he asks curiously as they part from one another's arms.

Him she answers without a second thought. She's known him for less than a year, but she'd grown to love him within a few weeks of meeting him. "I was worried about you and your mom so I came looking."

"Oh, she didn't tell you we were leaving, did she?" She gives him a tight lipped smile and he shakes his head in acknowledgment. "Sorry, this whole trip was really sudden."

"That's okay, I'm glad to see you're okay."

"Yeah," he tilts his head slightly to the side, "but how did you find us? How did you-"

"That," the dark brunette cuts him off, settling her hand on his shoulder protectively as she pulls him toward her, "is a very good question."

* * *

**A/N:** So... this was only going to be a short thing to get it out of my system... it sort of took a life of its own though... I've decided to continue with it and see where it goes but just know it's most likely going to be Regina/Olivia endgame. Reviews would be appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait, updates for this fic will probably be relatively slow… The response to the first chapter absolutely blew me away, I'm really glad you're enjoying it so far! Anyways, here we have it, Olivia, Regina, Henry, and Emma all in one room… er diner. Enjoy! And let me know what you think!_

_Warning that Lewis is mentioned in this chapter but only briefly and no details are given, just thought I'd give you the heads up._

* * *

There's a long, drawn out silence that encompasses the entire diner for the next few moments. It could be minutes or hours, hell, it could even just be a mere few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. Chocolate eyes lock onto one another, ignoring all else and the only sound in the entire establishment right now is the familiar hum of the diner's machinery — or whatever, diner stuff, it doesn't really matter, fact is, it's eerily quiet.

There's a challenge in the other woman's eyes and finally, feeling the weight of the tension and the eyes of observers boring into the three of them, she shifts her gaze. She's not losing the challenge, though, she's assessing the situation. And the other woman seems to be doing the same now, though her gaze is more alarmed, protective, dangerous than the sergeant's and that in itself provides her with some insight into the brunette stranger. She doesn't miss the way the other woman's arm is draped across Henry's shoulders, nor the fact that he is not at all uncomfortable with the gesture. In fact he seems at ease, as if the gesture is the most natural thing. And the thing is, she has no idea who this woman is or why she's so protective over the boy or why he is so unbelievably comfortable with the woman whose eyes are so cold and dangerous as they take her in.

Finally, she decides it's time to break the silence, "and who exactly are you?"

"I do believe you were asked a question first, dear." she drawls, and her tone is so judgmental that the sergeant has to fight to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Rich, privileged, judgmental, cold, and yet… protective, and judging by the way she holds the boy… loving. It's an odd combination, mystifying and incredible and quite discomfiting.

"If it's all the same to you, mam, I find it's best to know who I'm talking to before giving them any kind of information. So again, I ask, who are you?"

"Regina Mills," she concedes, though she doesn't offer her hand, instead she lifts her head, looking regal and haughty as hell, as though everyone, especially Olivia, is beneath her. "I'm the mayor of this town." Well, that explains the clothes and the authoritative air. "And as such, I have the right to know what you're doing here and what you want with Emma and Henry because that little embrace you just shared, I find it highly inappropriate coming from a stranger."

The implied accusation does exactly what it was likely intended to do, it astounds and infuriates the sergeant, making her want to shout at the woman for her audacity, or, even more satisfyingly, hit her. But there are eyes on them still, and she's the one standing in unfamiliar territory, she's the one who nearly lost her shield over her last transgression. So she grits her teeth and counts to five internally, refusing to provide this woman — Regina Mills — with the reaction she hoped to elicit. She lifts the corner of her jacket then, revealing her badge as she introduces herself, because if this woman is going to play the power card, well then, that's a game that she can play, too. "Sergeant Olivia Benson." She smirks, noticing the slight twitch of the woman's eyes and lips, she masks her features well and quite quickly, but Olivia doesn't miss the fact that she does indeed have some form of affect on the mayor. "Of the special victims unit."

Regina tilts her head to the side ever so slightly, pursing her lips, the question clear on her lips.

"Sex crimes," the sergeant clarifies.

The mayor nods in understanding at first but then her face drops and she turns her gaze to the boy next to her and asks, the worry evident in her tone "Henry…" She brings her hand up and caresses his cheek with her thumb as she whispers, "did… did something happen in New York?"

The boy's eyes grow wide and he parts his lips to respond but nothing comes out, he's shocked silent. Luckily, Olivia catches on quite quickly and rushes to clarify further. "Oh, no. No, this isn't about Henry, that's not how we know each other. Nothing like that. No need to be concerned, Regina." It's the first time she uses the woman's name and she has to admit she doesn't hate the reaction she gets. It's an odd one, half relief and half surprise but as quickly and gracefully as everything else this woman seems to do, she recovers, straightening her back and returning attention to her with a mask of indifference. Strange, how quick she is to hide her emotions. It's a coping mechanism she has seen far too many times and she can't help but wonder what happened to this woman for her to feel the need to act so cold and unimpressed most of the time.

"Then what, may I ask, are you doing here?"

"And how?" Henry interjects. Regina gives him a quick disapproving glance and he bites his lower lip before looking down dejectedly. _Odd_.

She ignores the 'how' because what exactly was that supposed to mean anyway? She got here the same way most people get anywhere, by vehicle. And if he meant it because he and Emma hadn't told anyone well then, even he knows she's been a cop for nearly two decades. "I'm here to see Emma Swan, and forgive me mam, but mayor or not, it's really none of your business. Now do you know where I might find her or are you just trying to make things more difficult than necessary?"

The mayor's lips turn into a practiced grin before she bunches up her fist and lifts it, she's not going to hit her, it's an act of frustration, that much is clear. She then takes a step towards the sergeant but before she can say anything, Henry's hand wraps around her arm and he tugs ever so gently as he says "mom, please."

Both women turn to look at him then, and Olivia doesn't know what the mayor's expression looks like at the moment because she's too busy staring at him in shock, trying to determine whether or not she heard him correctly. She did, as it turns, because he says it once more, though she's too shocked and confused to pay attention to whatever else he says. All she knows is he's talking and, as she finally opts to return her gaze to the mayor, she knows that the other woman is listening intently. Her features soften once more and she nods ever so slightly as she whispers something back to him and gently pats his cheek. A brilliant, genuine smile graces the mayor's lips, white sparkling teeth revealed under parted lips and it's quite a stunning sight.

It's only when Regina turns to look at her that she manages to escape her stupor. The smile slowly leaves the mayor as she straightens her posture and clears her throat. "Well then, I do believe Henry has a point, perhaps it would be best we continue this _civil_ conversation without all the curious meddlers." She shoots a glare to some of the patrons who were all too clearly eavesdropping before gesturing towards an empty booth. "Join us for lunch and perhaps we can answer one another's questions without the audience."

She glances around the diner, first to the many strangers who seem to be waiting with baited breath for her reply, then to the intriguing mayor — Henry's _mom?_ — then down to the sweet young boy. For his part, Henry shoots her a sheepish, yet somehow reassuring smile and he casts such a show of innocence that she can't help the smile that tugs at her lips.

"Alright," she concedes with a sigh, her eyes still locked on Henry's, making a silent promise to the boy. She then looks back to Regina and nods, "that sounds good to me." She pats Henry on the back and he grins up at her but Regina doesn't appear to appreciate the gesture. It's quite clear that she is not at all pleased with the familiarity the two share, though why the mayor has yet to question the fact that he addresses Olivia as his aunt is beyond her.

They're about to sit at the table when the mayor places a hand on the boy's shoulder and proceeds to guide him silently to sit next to her instead. No, this would not be a comfortable lunch at all, this woman was more than the average challenge, she was an enigma, a puzzle that Olivia had every intention to solve. As long as it might take and as challenging as it would be, she would rise from this interaction the victor.

* * *

They're sitting in a booth in the diner now, have been for a while. Henry's munching on some fries and slurping up a milkshake while the two women each cradle a cup of coffee between their hands, rarely removing their eyes from one another. It's some sort of twisted staring game where occasionally they ask each other questions and answer simply and without detail. From time to time Henry makes a comment to ease the tension and though neither woman would ever admit it, they're glad for his interruptions.

Olivia has answered all sorts of questions from where she was from to what her beverage of choice was (and that one was odd, even though they're in a diner) to how she knew Emma and Henry. Her answers are brief and reveal very little because there really is no trust between the two, they're all truths, of course, but they barely answer the questions given. The question of her status of aunt never comes up, however. There's a chance the mayor had missed the title upon Henry's excitement, of course, but the way the woman seems to analyze every little detail makes her doubt that as a possibility.

Regina, for her part, has also answered a few questions but since the mayor never asked her about Henry's title for her, she never asked about the mom thing. Because really, what the hell? Part of her doesn't even want to know, especially since neither Emma nor Henry have ever mentioned this woman and she'd be damned if she'd take Regina's word for it. No, that was a question for Emma, absent the presence of the ever fascinating mayor.

"And how do I know that the moment Miss Swan gets here you won't be arresting her?" the woman drawls after taking a sip of her coffee, dark eyes staring at the sergeant from above the rim of her steaming mug.

"You don't." She shrugs, taking a sip of her own coffee before nodding over to Henry, "but he does. And if you know anything about Henry Swan," the mayor visibly flinches at the full name and he himself squirms just a little so she files that information away to dissect later, "you know he doesn't trust just anyone. He's a smart kid. If he trusts me, and he does," he smiles brightly, nodding in confirmation, "then that should be reason enough for you, too."

The brunette narrows her eyes and silently studies the sergeant for a moment, allowing the woman's words to sink in. She's considering the logic, and it almost seems like it's enough. Henry, however, doesn't seem quite sure so he takes the opportunity to intervene once again. He wipes his hands with a napkin before placing a hand on Regina's shoulder and leaning closer. He speaks softly and though Olivia can't hear it all she's quite certain she hears him say "please", again calling her mom and something about a good person and a hero and he's comparing her to someone else.

She's tempted to lean in closer, wishing to hear all that this all too persuasive young man is saying to the stoic mayor. She doesn't, of course, knowing all too well how bad a move that would be. Trust, that was something she needed from this woman, if only temporarily, and eavesdropping would most definitely not be the way to go about getting that trust. So instead she waits, focusing a little too much on the coffee in front of her, taking long slow sips of the lukewarm liquid. It's quite irritating how quick it is for coffee to lose it's warmth, though luckily in a diner such as this, with its nosy waitresses, the cups get refilled quite quickly and often.

She's about to contemplate calling the waitress back to order something when she feels a light kick to her leg, she focuses her attention in front of her, the guilty yet proud smile makes the culprit quite clear. Henry gestures in what she assumes is meant to be a subtle form (he fails dramatically if that's his intention) towards the mayor and before she can question it, she realizes precisely why he seems so victorious. Regina Mills, mayor of Storybrooke, pulls out her cellphone and places a call. It isn't really necessary, since she knows by the excitement the boy exudes, but the confirmation as to whom she is calling is made as soon as the mayor lets out a deep, clipped "Miss Swan."

She sighs exaggeratedly and corrects herself after a brief moment, surly the blonde disapproved of the formality, "_Emma_… Come down to the diner, you have a visitor."

A pause and then, "I'm not your secretary, dear. Come see for yourself."

Another pause and a teasing "No."

She smirks through the next pause and then "If you'd rather not then that's fine, dear. But then you'll never know." She lifts her mug up to her lips, clearly in an effort to hide the smirk turned smile and takes a sip through the next pause.

"Fine." she says, all traces of that smile gone as she sets the mug back down on the table. She nods, despite the fact that the blonde cannot see her, and then "That would be acceptable, yes." She then hangs up and puts her phone away, smiling once more, and this time it's almost viciously, except it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Olivia tilts her head to the side, once again perplexed by the woman and her unique little quirks. Like, you know, that smile that seems to illustrate far too many conflicting meanings.

"Ten minutes." That's all the mayor says to the sergeant but the context is clear, Emma would be arriving soon, and thank goodness for that.

So Olivia simply nods in return and sends the woman a half-hearted smile and a clipped "great."

* * *

The blonde marches into the diner some fifteen (not ten, of course, the woman doesn't have the best record when it comes to punctuality) minutes later. She pays no mind to the other patrons in the diner and instead practically yells at the brunette in her annoyance, marching straight up to her table when she spots her next to Henry. She doesn't even register the third party facing away from her as she approaches.

"What was with the cryptic phone call, Regina? You could have just told me—" she's managed to walk up to the table and now she sees the woman seated opposite the queen and her eyes go wide as she stops mid rant. The most enchanting smile brightens her face then and she exclaims the sergeant's name (well, her nickname, 'Liv').

Olivia's own face brightens, too as she rises from her seat just in time to be engulfed by a hug from the blonde. "What the hell are you doing here?" Emma asks, though her tone is playful. Olivia chuckles before replying, "I could ask you the same thing. I haven't heard from you in weeks." She doesn't say it, but the implication that she was worried, which is only amplified by the fact that she's here in this town now, is quite clear.

They loosen their embrace, opting to hold onto one another's forearms so that they're still connected but can now see each other. "Don't you have a unit to run or something?"

Olivia attempts to chuckle once more but she half chokes on it and it's really, obviously faked. But at least now she knows she's not mad at her, though she still doesn't know what the Swans are doing here. She attempts to keep the mood light, shooting back with a teasing, "I guess somebody hasn't been watching the news lately, then."

The blonde tilts her head, completely befuddled and Olivia shakes her head lightly, pushing away the pain that rises up at the memory and adds, "I'm on leave until further notice."

Emma's eyes widen as she soaks in the words and drops her expression into concern, not pity. She leans back in for another hug, when really she does it so that no one can hear what she says next. "Lewis" she whispers, and it's more of a realization than a question but Olivia replies all the same.

"Dead." And she says it so quietly that if they weren't so close to one another, the blonde never would have heard it. Before she can ask anything about it, the sergeant simply adds, "I'll explain later." Her voice breaks ever so slightly as she says it so the blonde works quickly to help her friend keep it together. She knows better than anyone that Liv wasn't one to cry in front of others. It was a rarity, one afforded to very few in very specific moments and the middle of Granny's Diner in Storybrooke was definitely not one of those moments.

"How'd you get here anyways?" Emma asks instead when she pulls away once more.

The brunette is incredibly thankful for her friend's change of subject and just shakes her head before gesturing for the seat. Emma takes the hint quickly enough and slides in to make room for the sergeant. "I do have a car." she deadpans as she takes her place next to the blonde. The blonde rolls her eyes playfully before smiling at Regina and Henry across from her. "Which reminds me, I need the number for the closest mechanic, my car broke down at the town line."

"Seriously? Wow, okay. I'll call Michael Tillman and let him know, don't worry about it."

"And I probably need a new phone, too." She frowns as she pulls it out of her pocket, "I can't get a single bar, but the lovely Madame Mayor here had absolutely no trouble with hers. If I didn't know any better I might think there was a spell to keep away outsiders." She laughed and the others at the table did, too, though theirs seemed a little more forced, worried. _Strange_. Obviously she's not funny, never has been, but even a lousy joke like that shouldn't cause such an awkward reaction.

"Yeah," Emma fidgets nervously, "that would explain a lot now, wouldn't it? So, how long are you staying?"

"I don't know," she shrugs, "I only really came to make sure you're okay… but I guess I have to stay until my car is fixed, at least."

"Okay, awesome." Emma smiles but before she can say anything else, Henry cuts in.

"Yeah! I can show you around! There's a lot to see here, believe it or not!" he grins, bursting with excitement until Regina clears her throat, pulling all attention towards her.

"Yes, well," she drawls, "I'll see to it that Mr Tillman fixes your car as quickly as possible." Henry frowns at that so she adds, if only for his sake, "so as not to detain you any longer than necessary. I do believe as sergeant you must be quite needed back in… New York."

That seems to appease Henry, though it doesn't change the fact that he is far from happy at the thought of her leaving. So she simply smiles politely, knowing full well that the brunette had just 'politely' told her to fuck off. She thanks her for her _kindness_ before returning her attention to the blonde, they had a lot of catching up to do.

* * *

_**A/N:** I have to say that it physically pained me to use Henry Swan, it just feels so wrong, but a year in New York without mention of this town or Regina Mills has Benson suspicious and Olivia knows how to tick those buttons. Not sure when the next chapter will be up but be warned that there will be some mention of the Lewis debacle. I'll add warnings as needed, of course, there's a lot of ground to cover for all three ladies so we'll see where this goes. As always reviews are most appreciated!_


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